Soup du Jour: Roasted Garlic Soup

It is no secret I have been caught in the gaze of soup this season.  Even though LA is not his with snow storms and it’s often warm enough to go outside without a jacket, I still caught the soup bug.  Lately I’ve been all about creamy vegetable soups, and using my Immersion Blender whenever possible.

I recently ordered a soup cookbook, that’s taking it’s sweet time getting to me.  In the meantime, I’ve just been looking on the internet.  It’s difficult for me to trust recipes I find online because I always want it to be perfect the first time around.  I find myself looking to chefs from the Food Network, even though I know most of those recipes don’t come from them.  From my experiences working in Reality TV, I know other people are cooking up these recipes (yeah, I just made that pun).  But even so, I’m probably always going to trust Emeril.  The guy says ‘Bam!’ all the time.  How can you go wrong?

So after the mind blowing Asparagus Soup recipes of his, I decided to go back for my next endeavor.  I give you: Roasted Garlic Soup.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from this soup.  I LOVE garlic.  So this was kind of a no brainer for me to try, but I didn’t realize how amazing such a simple soup could be.

Tanning.

I put a link to the recipe if you want exact measurements.  To begin, I roasted 5 heads of garlic.  Not only do I have a huge soft spot for roasted garlic, but I think the smell that fills my kitchen is fantastic.  It’s not that stinky, I’m stuck inside someone’s mouth of bad breath smell.  It’s just clean, roasting garlic.  Mmm.

Salty goodness.

I let those puppies go for about an hour while I started chopping my vegetables.  When those were ready to go, I moved on to the pancetta.  I need to stop here for a dramatic pause.  Pancetta.  In soup.  !!!!

Thyme

Parsley

I love adding a hint of meaty saltiness to straight up vegetable soups like this.  It really adds a whole other level of flavor.  So I happily cut these beauties into small squares and threw them in a pot where I had melted the butter.  I let those simmer for a bit before adding my vegetables and herbs.  A lot of these steps started happening rather quickly, so pictures didn’t happen as often as I liked.

 

 

 

Garlic Paste.

While all of that was going on, I was letting my garlic cool.  Like the risky wannabe chef that I am, I went for it before they were cooled completely and could be seen hopping around my kitchen in pain from time to time.

But garlic was calling and I couldn’t say no.  The tips had been cut off for the roasting, so I was able to squeeze out all the roasted goodness.  It was a very simple and wonderfully stinky process.  I stirred them all together and added to my vegetable mixture on the stove.

 

I added some white wine, let that boil off for a minute, then threw in the chicken stock.  That simmered for half an hour.  This recipe has you adding cubes of bread to thicken.

Cubes of bread in soup!

 

I’d never even considered that before and was

super excited by the idea.  I heart bread.  I threw in my cubes.  Then I got to blend!  Ah, my favorite part.  By the time I was done, my kitchen was smelling fantastic and my soup was like velvet.

Power Tool!

I added the cream (which I replaced with half and half), and the remaining ingredients and let that simmer for a couple minutes.

I’m going to admit that part of me chose to make this soup because I wanted to eat healthy for the week.  Emeril tells you to make Goat Cheese toast with this, and OF COURSE I did.  A good friend had bought my some Italian Bread from Bay Cities for my birthday.  Everyone from LA will immediately salivate when they read that.  For those of you who do not know, Bay Cities is the best Italian Market and Sandwich place in LA.  Awesome.  I used this bread for the cubes in the soup, but saved a few slices to toast in the oven with some Olive Oil.  Then I spread the Goat Cheese on and let them broil to toast the tops.  Excellent addition to this soup!

I had decided that I was going to stretch the soup and eat it as a side all week.  For my main course I would have Broiled Portabella Mushrooms.  This is a recipe my family kind of threw together when we were all dieting back in the day.  We would ‘detox’ from time to time, which meant only eating raw fruits and vegetables for a week.  When that hell was over, we moved on to grilled fruits and vegetables, and so on.  By the second week, the idea of grilled vegetables was as excitable as steak is to me now.  So I tweaked this recipe a bit.

I bought a large Portabella Mushroom, cleaned it and put it on a baking tray, drizzling with Olive Oil, salt and pepper.  I cut a few slices of tomato and added them to the tray as well.  I broiled those for about 10- 15 minutes

on 350.  When they were done I assembled my dish.  Fresh Basil was cleaned and put on top of the mushroom (cap down of course).  Then the tomatoes, followed by crumbles of goat cheese.  I put all of that back in the oven to broil for another 5- 10 minutes.

Upon completion, I drizzled aged Balsamic Vinegar over the whole thing.

This was an excellent addition to the soup, as they were all very basic and fresh notes mixing together.

I’m 25 and I ate to prove it!

Last week I turned the big 2-5.  It was not something I was necessarily dreading, but it’s a pretty big birthday.  I took some time to figure out exactly  how I wanted to celebrate.  Because my birthday was mid- week, I was going to wait to celebrate with all my friends at a bar.  I decided, on that fateful Thursday night, I wanted to eat a decadent meal.  Shocker!

There were a couple of recipes that I had been meaning to try, and frankly needed an excuse to because they were not healthy.  It would be 3 courses, including a dessert.  How lovely!  I invited my buddy Joe over and of course, my roommie (the one who was in town) ate with us as well.  And onward to the meal!

Delicious Asparagus Soup

Because I’m always looking to try a new soup recipe, I found a rather excellent sounding version of Asparagus Soup from Emeril.  I decided to prepare most of this Wednesday night, and add the last bit of ingredients and heat up the next night.  Being a lover of asparagus, I was really excited to give this a whirl.

Stalks for the chucking.

First was to create an asparagus stock!  I cut the gorgeous tops off the asparagus, then the unusable stalks.  Those stalks were added to a pot of chicken broth and left to simmer for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, I began the arduous task of chopping all the other vegetables.

After removing the stalks from the stock and chucking them, I blanched the tips.  Then I transferred them to an ice water bath to stop them from cooking.  I love ice water baths!!  I enjoy when recipes add that touch of complexity that makes me feel like I’m a real chef.

Glorious Tips.

All sauteed and thirsty for stock.

The rest is pretty typical soup stuff.  I melted the butter, added the chopped vegetables to sautee and then added the stock.  I let all of the boil, and then simmer for 20 minutes.

Then came the food processing.  As I discussed in my previous post, I was without Immersion Blender, so I sloppily processed my soup in several batches.

This was followed by another ice water bath!!!

Bathing!

I packaged her up and fridged her until the next night.

Mmm!

On Thursday night, I simply added my soup to a pot, added the cream and tips and let her warm up.  Each bowlful was topped with freshly grated Parmesan Cheese.  I can’t describe how good this soup was.  It was so clean and intense.  The asparagus really popped, being complemented by all the other ingredients blended together.  We all agreed that this was our favorite part of this meal.  I highly recommend it, and will absolutely be making it again.

 

MAIN COURSE

Petto di pollo con Gorgonozola at La Finestra

aka: most unhealthy chicken dish I could find

Dear Lord!

Yes, you guessed it.  Another find from the LA times website.  I can’t get enough.  It brings me great joy when I can recreate (and sometimes improve upon) a dish that a nice restaurant makes.  So here we go.

CHEESE SAUCE!

To be honest, this recipe wasn’t that hard.  Lucky for me, Joe had showed up way early so I put him on cream duty while I prepared the chicken.  I threw 2 cups of heavy cream (holy cow!) in a pot and made him stir that for 20 minutes, at which point he added a ton of Gorgonzola cheese.  Then cheese sauce was born!

Pounding that sweet piece of veal... err it was actually chicken.

Meanwhile as I so eloquently said to him after only a half of glass of wine in me, “I’m going to pound this chick.”  Woops.  That one was too good not to share.  Anyways, I cleaned my chicken breasts, put them between two pieces of plastic wrap and beat the crap out of them.  The goal was to get to 1/4 inch thick, but I’m pretty sure mine were thicker than that.  Oh well.

Dredging.

Frying.

Next they were dredged in salted, peppered, and dredged in flour awaiting their destiny of being fried.

I heated a large pan with oil and browned each one by one.

While this was happening, I was waiting for an enormous pot of water to boil to blanch my spinach.  When that finally got rolling, I blanched and then prepared another ice water bath!!!

Upon removing the spinach from the bath, it was a gorgeous deep green color.  I won’t even get into the issue of being out of ice.  I squeezed all the liquid from the spinach and set aside.

I warmed the pan again, added some garlic and then the spinach.  I let that cook for a few minutes the then tossed in that delicious cheese sauce.  I let that go for a few minutes to reduce and so the flavors could

marry.

Chickens ready to get saucy.

Next was the assembly.  I had put each chicken breast on a tray lined with aluminum foil.  I carefully added the spinach cream sauce to each one and put on my broiler.  This part actually blew Joe’s mind.  At this point, the recipe didn’t seem all that bad for you, but Joe didn’t realize what was about to happen.  I took out a bag of shredded Mozzarella cheese and generously heaped a handful onto each breast.  Then I reached for a bowl of Parmesan Cheese I asked him to grate.  That went on top as well.  I’m not exaggerating when I saw that I had to push down on the mound of cheese to get the Parmesan to stay put.  Once these delicious death treats were ready to go, I popped them in the oven to melt the cheese.  Meanwhile, we ate our soup.

Once the chicken was done,  served each on its own plate.  In true fine dining fashion, there was no side.  I would also like to add how gigantic each portion was.  The chicken breasts I had were very large, and after flattening them, they almost took up a large plate on their own.  We all laughed at how terrible this dish was for us and how much cheese was involved, but there were no complaints.  It was delicious, but I immediately discussed what I would do differently next time.  I decided this dish would be much better with butterflied chicken, stuffed with the spinach cream sauce.  I would reserve a bit of sauce to put on top for later, making the spinach more of a reduced sauce.  I’d button the chicken up with toothpicks and fry lightly on each side.  The assembly would be virtually the same, except I’d add fried Prosciutto to the top.  There was a salty element missing, and this would be the perfect addition.

Zabaglione!

After finishing the chicken, we were all rubbing our bellies when I announced dessert.  Keeping in the spirit of rich food, I had prepared a traditional Italian dessert called Zabaglione, which was comprised of wine.  I wanted to stay absolutely tradition for my first try at this, and realized in hindsight I should have thrown caution to the wind.  In theory, this dessert can be made with any type of liquor.

I had actually prepared this before I even started on the chicken, so please travel back in time with me for a moment.  Now, Zabaglione (I dare you to try and pronounce that correctly) can be served either chilled

or warm.  I chose chilled because that just sounded like a nice way to end such a filling meal.  To begin, I added half a cup of sugar to 8 egg yolks.  Yes, 8 of them.  Just the yolks.  Like I said, this meal was decadent.  I whipped those babies until I got an almost white color out of them.  I added 1/4 cup of Marsala wine (traditional) and the grated rind of an orange, and whipped a little more.

I simmered some water, and added my bowl on top of the simmering pot.  I continued whipping until the mixture blew up and ribbons formed.  I removed from the heat and put it in ANOTHER ICE WATER BATH.  I then continued whipping to until it had chilled.

I added blueberries to little glasses and poured my foamy mixture in, plopping more blueberries on top.  All the recipes said to use strawberries, but I said “Pshhh.”  I dropped these guys in the fridge until we were ready for dessert.

By the time I took them out, they  had definitely deflated.  I served them and told the guys to mix them up a bit.  What we discovered was that the orange flavor was the most pronounced.  It was very very sweet, but in a way that I enjoyed.  It was so light that I didn’t mind.  And it was excellent with the blueberries.  I decided for the next run, however, I would be trying the chocolate version with port because that just sounds heavenly.  All in all though, how can you say no to a boozy dessert?

Power Tools in the Kitchen?!

You sir, are a delight.

Monday was one of the better days I’ve had in 2011.  Yes, I know it’s only the third week of January.  And it’s not because I had the day off for MLK day, nor because it was warm enough that I went to the beach.  In January.  Thank you LA, for having amazing perks.  It’s because I bought an immersion blender.

As I constantly discuss, with no end in sight, I am all about soup these days.  I made an asparagus soup last week (which I’ll get to later.  Honestly, I just forgot to upload my pictures, which is why there is a wait.) that called for such a blender.  I had the option of using a food processor instead, which is what I did.  I boiled and simmered and let flavors marry.  And then I pulled out my roommate’s mini food processor (probably 3-4 cups) and bzzed my beautiful soup in very messy batches.

After eating this incredible soup, I knew there would be much more of this in my future.  It was time to upgrade.  I went online and researched big, no bs food processors.  My heart sank when I saw how pricey these were.  Everything was pretty much out of my price range.  I then remembered the recipe suggested using an immersion blender.  I typed that in and saw that I could easily afford one of these.  Win!

I took a moment to strategically think about this purchase.  As I’ve been cooking more, I’ve been trying to build my collection of kitchen appliances.  I thought about all the things I could do with a food processor.  Maybe I should wait, and save up for one of those?  I knew I wouldn’t wait long and then feel guilty about the purchase.  I remembered that I had my sweet sweet meat grinder, that could serve any grinding purpose.  I also had a blender that could usually do a good job in place of a food processor.  I tried to think about each time I needed to use a food processor/ cursed the fact that I had a small one.  It came down to soups and pesto.  The immersion blender was a go.

I had never even heard of one of these before the asparagus soup recipe.  It was a bit of a wonder.  Basically it is a hand- held blender, that acts as a food processor in whatever bowl/ pot you’re using.  Incredibly convenient.  And it came with little attachments!  It had a bowl to act as it’s own food processor.  Score!

So I walked on over to Bed Bath and Beyond on Monday and purchased the jankiest looking box I’ve ever seen, because it was the one I wanted for the price I wanted.  After crossing the street, and buying some groceries, I checked the box.  Trust your instincts people!  A lot was missing from this box.  I was not looking forward to having to return/ exchange.  I finished my errands and then took a trip back.  I settled on a Cuisinart model, that was $20 more, but Cuisinart makes a really reliable product and I saw this as an investment.  (I also found a card inside as I checked for all the parts this time… someone decided to return an anniversary present.  I left the card on the shelf so all the other shoppers could feel the anniversary love.)

I made my exchange and headed home to embark on another soup journey.  I will say, I had no idea what I was in store for with this little treat under my arm.

I went through all the stages of typical soup making, and I got the ‘use immersion blender’ step.  I took out my glorious power tool, plugged it in, and let her go nuts on my pot of soup.  I jumped at the amount of power coming out of this thing.  I felt like I had a light saber in my hands, only instead of fighting off storm troopers I was smoothing out unwanted lumps.  (God, I’m such a dork!)  Anyways, I had 200 watts of undisturbed power flowing into this soup.  I was riding the lightning all the way to soup city.  (Seriously, what is with me today?)

I got the same kind of excited/ accomplished feeling I’ve gotten from most to all other power tools.  This thing was a beast and its mission was to destroy.  When I first turned it on, it immediately sucked itself to the bottom of the pot, demanding all liquid to whirl around and get sucked under its blades.  That’s right.  The immersion blender doesn’t get spun around like a whisk.  This mother demands that you get sucked into its hurricane of destruction.  Within minutes, and to my surprise, my soup was lump free.  Any evidence of chopped vegetables were gone.  I sheathed my weapon.

It was official.  I would be a lover of immersion blenders for life.

Christmas Through Food Part IV: Seafood Chowdah

This was hands down my favorite recipe from the ones I made in this series.  I am a soup junkie.  I’m not afraid to admit it.  And especially during a freakin’ blizzard, all I wanted was soup.  The night I decided to make it, actually, my sister also made French Onion Soup which was delightful.  So it wasn’t so much a ‘soup off,’ but a soup celebration.

And with that, I give you Seafood Chowder from Annabelle’s Keg and Chowder House in Ketchikan, Alaska.  This was yet another recipe I adopted from the LA Times website.

Huge pot. Small amount of bacon.

So the gloriousness of this soup begins with bacon.  Honestly, creamy soups and a touch of bacon always seem to go well together.  So I started out with this tiny amount of chopped bacon in a gigantic pot.  It sizzled away, and when all the fat was gone, I scooped out the bacon to use later.  I tossed in all my diced veggies– celery and onion and let them dance around in the bacon fat.

Meanwhile, I let the potatoes boil in water for about 20 minutes until softened.

Butter added. Check. No mayhem yet.

I checked back on my veggies and was a little concerned that there wasn’t enough bacon fat to coat them.  I was constantly stirring, but they were starting to stick.  After a few minutes, I added the stick of butter to help soften them.  At that point, however, I was supposed to start adding the flour to create a roux.  So I slowly added the cup of flour to this mixture, stirring my heart out.  It became a large mush.  I kept turning it over and over to prevent burning and proceeded to run around my parents’ kitchen trying to measure and add all the herbs.  I had a real scare when I wasn’t sure if I had just added the thyme or sage.  Crap.  Obviously all of these was far too chaotic for me to photograph, so use your imagination.

Hurray! Broth meets roux!

My mother was making chicken broth for me, as we didn’t have access to seafood broth, so I couldn’t liquify this fast enough.  After everything was added, I lowered the flame and kept stirring.  Finally the broth was ready and I poured it all in, loosening up this mush that had formed.  I will say though, that it did smell heavenly.

I switched gears and chopped the potatoes while sipping on a glass of wine, and talking about my future with my dad while he talked about his past.  Truly fantastic conversation over cooking.  I added the potatoes and bacon and brought the soup to a boil.

It cooked for 20 minutes before I added the remaining ingredients, most notably– the seafood.  My parents actually had a plethora of seafood to choose from and we didn’t have to buy any!  As I mentioned in a previous post, my father had invested in a retarded amount of clams.  So I asked my brother to dig out the pot that held them, currently snowed in in our backyard.  My mother rinsed them for me and I used about half of what we had left.  I also added a pound of flounder, which was an excellent contribution as it completely melted into the soup.  Since I wasn’t using seafood broth, this really helped add a creamy fresh fish flavor.  Also into the soup went frozen shrimp and scallops.  Yum!

I let this simmer, covered for about another 20 minutes.  When the clams had opened I knew I was done.  I tasted to make sure all the elements were in place and I was very happy with how this soup came out.

Mmm... seafood medley!

My whole family enjoyed this chowder.  It was very warming and the combination of herbs and seafood was really splendid.  It wasn’t too heavy, how some chowders can be, but thin enough to enjoy a large helping of.  The seafood came across as fresh and not overcooked or chewy at all.  Success!

Look at how coy they are!

My only real notes for the next time I create this, is not to use clams.  In the long run, having reheated this soup because it yielded so damn much, after reheating it I found it to be a bit sandy.  My mother and I realized this was probably due to the clams.  I think next time I’ll add muscles instead.  And maybe some crab.. hehe.

I’d also be interested to see how the flavors change with fresh herbs.  This recipe called for all dried herbs, which made things easy at the time, but I have a feeling the flavors will really pop when adding the fresh stuff.

Christmas Through Food- Part III: French Toast with Orange Compote

As I’ve mentioned time and again, I spent most of my free time tooling around on the internet looking for recipes.  There was a huge spike in this activity in mid December.  The idea of making decadent rich foods seemed appropriate and I was looking for any and all that would add to the holiday season.

While I was unemployed, for a very short two weeks, I developed some ungodly obsession with French Toast.  I couldn’t get enough of it, but once I started working again these morning treats vanished.  So when I was on the LA Times website, weeding through recipes requested from restaurants who were generous enough to supply them, I practically peed myself when I saw the most glorious French Toast recipe.

I remember talking to my mom on the phone a few days later (let’s be serious here, I told my whole family about this) and telling her I wanted to make this for breakfast one day while I was home.  It seemed like the perfect Christmas morning breakfast, except for the fact that my family strictly eats cold Italian antipasto on Christmas morning, so that idea was out.  Maybe Christmas Eve.  Regardless, I got everyone amped up for this motherload.

The recipe I chose was French Toast with orange compote, from the Arizone Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix.  This little number consisted of little marscarpone sandwiches that you dipped in the normal french toast egg batter and fried up, adding a freshly made orange compote.  I won’t judge you if you had to take a moment to wipe the drool from your mouth.  Because when I read this recipe, I practically jumped out of my chair.  Cheese in French Toast?!?!  This was the greatest day ever!

So when I returned to Jersey, the ingredients were purchased so I could make this mindblowing breakfast.  My parents were really encouraging this flare I’d developed for cooking.  Not to mention, this dish sounded incredibly excellent.  My downfall was hyping this up too much.  I told everyone I’d make it for breakfast on Christmas Eve.  What I didn’t take into account was the horrendous jet lag I would be developing for most of my stay.  So on the night before Christmas Eve, I fell asleep around 4am, resulting in waking around 2pm– well after everyone had eaten breakfast, and past an appropriate brunch hour.  This continued to happen for a few days, until one day I woke up hungover at an ungodly hour.  It was 10am, but after falling asleep around 4am again, this was awful.  I lounged around for an hour or two and got cookin.  This was really going to happen!

STEP 1- THE ORANGE COMPOTE

The end result.

I attached the recipe above, so please refer to that for exact measurements.

The first step was to get the compote going, as it would need to simmer for an extended amount of time to properly reduce.  I threw in the mandarine oranges, sugar, and ginger that I chopped up.  (I lOVE that this recipe used ginger, as I’m learning it’s my new favorite thing to add for a little extra tanginess.)  I reserved the mandarine orange juice, as the recipe so boldly told me to, having just enough that I would need.  Booyah.  I love it when things work out like that.  What I don’t love, is not having any orange juice because my father used it all up for mimosas.  Did I mention a blizzard rode through?  So there was no way for me to get my much needed 2 and 3/4 cups of OJ.  That is a lot!  How was I supposed to make an orange compote without any of the orange part?

I roared about how pissed I was that no one left any OJ for me and my dad just shrugged his shoulders.  “Just squeeze an orange,” was his response.  Cue body shake enraged chef at such a ridiculous concept.  When I told him how much I needed, he actually laughed.  Clearly he had no faith.  Having no other choice, I rolled up my sleeves and squeezed all the oranges we had.  Thank God for Christmas, because we had a ton from what we had bought ourselves and what others brought over.  I was able to get about 2 cups out of them.  It would have to do.  I dumped in the OJ, saving 1/2 cup for later use and let that mother simmer for about an hour.  The recipe said 40 minutes, but I let her ride.

STEP 2- FRENCH TOAST SANDWICHES

I grabbed my loaves of bread (just standard white bread, Wonder style) and grabbed a pint glass.  It was time to get circular on these mofos.  I patiently sat at our kitchen table, taking one slice at a time, and throwing down the glass to make the prettiest circle I could manage.  My sister sat across from me on her laptop pumping some jams.  It was getting serious in there.  I reserved the scraps for the birds, at my mother’s request.

I stopped after 24 circles, which would result in 12 sandwiches, and broke out the cheese.  I delicately spread a healthy dollop onto each pair, delightedly of course, and made up all the sandwiches.

Frying away. I didn't add any olive to my pan as I didn't really think it was necessary

I whisked together 6 eggs, cinnamon, a touch of sugar, and milk.  I lit a large skillet and started frying.  Like all french toast, I dipped a sandwich in for a bath and then threw it on the hot skillet.  Well I was a little more gentle than that because the marsarpone in the middle would cause the top half to slide around if I wasn’t careful.

Mmm... ready for a dip in the orange compote bath!

I was left with adorable little fried gems.  At that point I returned to the compost.  I took my remaining OJ and mixed in the cornstarch.  I added that mixture to the simmering compost to thicken it up a bit.  Then I let her cool down.

I called in the troops and let everyone create their own plates, buffet style.  I guided them through the intricate process of taking a fried sandwich and ladling the compost on top.

Gloriousness!

Of course by this point, I was barely hungry because so much of my energy had been used to create the dish, but I sat down with a little sandwich and savored it.  It was the kind of thing I imagined royalty would eat in the days of Barry Lyndon.  (Leave it to me to reference a movie to describe a period of time.  What a dork!)  So I felt even better about it as I drank my Dunkin Donuts coffee and ate in some sweatpants and my worn out Giants sweatshirt.  But this was exactly what I had hoped it would taste like.  You get a touch of richness from the cheese, but it’s not overwhelming.  The orange compote is a fresh, sweet contrast.  The flavors really blended together quite nicely, creating a filling and tasty breakfast.  It was a warming treat for such a cold day and really did taste like heaven.  I can’t even imagine going back to regular old French Toast.

Christmas Through Food- Pt II: The Italian Feast of Fish

THE ITALIAN CHRISTMAS FEAST

In my family, Christmas is officially celebrated with our Italian Family on my Mother’s side.  (Don’t worry… Easter gets the Polish side.  We’re very well rounded out.)  Since I’ve been old enough to care less about presents (I’m the baby in the family) this holiday has been strictly about food for us.  Sure, giving out and opening presents on Christmas morning is still fun, but we’re more excited about the cold Antipasto we’ll be eating while doing it.

So naturally, there is a feast, in Brooklyn, comprised of Fish.  This is a very tradition Italian event.  Every year, for as long as I can remember, Christmas Eve was spent dining on various seafood dishes.  And I have a huge family who loves to eat, so there was a wide variety and an abundance.

Unfortunately, like a true ass, I didn’t take any pictures.  This is truly a shame as this feast kicked the behind of all the other years.  So I will describe, in hopes you can gain an idea of the awesomeness I was surrounded by.

This was one of the first years I can remember that each family contributed to the meal.  Back in the day, it was just my Grandma cooking solo.  When the feast moved to my Aunt’s house, it was a combination of her and my Grandma.  A few years ago, all the daughters and granddaughters got together to make 100 rice balls (more on that later!!), but the entrees were still Grandma and Aunt Margaret based.

This year I returned to frigid Jersey to learn that my Father (not the Italian one) would be making his famous ‘Linguine with White Clam Sauce.”  This is truly a masterpiece and one of the dishes my Father has made many a time over the years.  He excitedly told me he bought a huge bag of clams that was on sale, not because he needed that many, but because he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get that many clams for a good price.

THE APPETIZERS

It is traditional for many of us to attempt to starve ourselves day of so that we can eat as much as humanly possible.  Throughout the meal itself, my cousin Margaret claimed she was going to try and stop herself when she became full because the year before she remembered feeling terrible after eating way too much.  With that, we all always arrive starving.  There’s usually crackers and dips and small things ready to wet your whistle.  You do a quick sweep around the room, kissing cheeks and wishing Merry Christmases before you toss your coat down and make way for anything you can shove in your mouth.  In true form, my Uncle Willie greets you with a glass of Sangria that will most likely put you on your ass for 2 reasons.

1.  It’s a Willie Surprise!  Which means it’s laced with booze.

2.  You haven’t eaten anything all day!

Seeing that we had an abundance of clams, my Father threw together a nice clams casino appetizer that my mother paraded around, somehow avoided every sidestep I took to get closer.  After popping one of these in my mouth and relishing in the crisp deliciousness, I went back for another to find a plate of empty shells.  This is another trademark of my Italian Family: gavones.

THE MAIN MEAL

The first course was ready to rock which included 3 different kinds of pasta, set up buffet style on the counter.  You had your choice of the first to be served, then like any other overbearing Italian family, you took what you wanted.  Like I said, we were eaters.  The first was a shrimp scampi my Aunt Margaret made.  Holy Hell!  This was absolutely delightful.  The shrimp were cooked perfectly– tender yet not mealy at all.  There was a perfect butter/oil/wine love affair happening with garlic to give just enough flavor, but allow the shrimp to really sing.

The second pasta dish was a classic and one of my Mother’s favorites.  It was a Cauliflower sauce.  As a kid I remember my Mom making this and to this day, still love it.  It’s a thicker red sauce that surprises you because your typical Cauliflower flavor doesn’t kick you in the face.  All of the ingredients blend together to create a subtle yet flavorful dish.  It was the best I’ve had in a long time.  I would expect nothing less from my Grandmother.  The woman knows her way around a kitchen.

The third option was my Father’s.  As I previously stated, this was a favorite dish of my nuclear family’s.  I was used to it only having baby clams, so it was an exciting voyage when the real shelled boys were out to play.  My brother and I both agreed this was my Father’s best version.  I don’t know what he did to that wine sauce, but it was absolutely perfect.  It was such a light tangy flavor covering the linguine with the clams waiting to burst forth with commanding presence.  A true masterpiece.

Of course there was bread circulating throughout to sop up whatever sauce you were blessed to have left on your plate.  And I’m talking real Italian bread from Bensonhurst– the Italian neighborhood in Brooklyn.  This is the very thing I’m often dreaming of that you just can’t find in LA.

As people began finishing up, we were all instructed (loudly of course) to hang on to your forks and pass your bowls down.  I helped my Aunt J clear off the table while the other dishes that were heating up in various pyrex dishes were thrown onto the table in no particular order whatsoever.  That was another beauty of how our family dines.  You put as much as you can on the table and everyone takes what they can get.  It’s rare that there’s any competitive nature because there’s usually an incredible amount of everything.  So you can eat slowly and savor what you’ve got in front of you.

My attempt was to take small portions of everything, so that I could eat each thing and not want to burst afterwards.  The first thing that came at me was fried Garduna.

I need to break away  here and explain something.  There are two things my entire extended family looks forward to on Christmas Eve, mostly because they are not prepared at any other time of the year: Garduna and Rice Balls.  Garduna is part of the celery family and can be a very fickle beast.  My sister took the reigns one year in preparing this family favorite, so I got all the inside juice.  You need to boil it enough to make it tender, but not too much so it’s limp.  There should be a crisp texture to it, but it can be so tough sometimes that you just want to give up trying to eat it.  It is then breaded and fried and one of the most delicious treats at our table.  I’ve never seen it anywhere besides our Christmas Eve dinner (not that I’ve really searched for it), and I don’t think I’d want to because that’s one of the ways it stays special.  Oddly enough, I couldn’t find any pictures of Garduna, just the place in Italy.  So it’s up to your imaginations!

The rice balls (usually served around the beginning of the meal, but this time were at the very end) are another savory treat.  Rice is prepared with a mixture of butter, oil, cheese, and touch of marinara sauce for color and flavor.  This combination is VERY important and can completely change the taste of your rice ball.  You scoop up a pawful of rice, indent the middle to create a little well, and add a tablespoon of a delicious meat combination with peas.  You then scoop up more rice and cover to create a ball.  You then toss that baby into a deep fryer and viola!  One of my favorite little surprises!

Moving on.  Salmon fillets were passed around.  I LOVE salmon.  I greedily swiped a piece and went for it.  Out of all the fish dishes, this wasn’t my most favorite, but that’s just because the caliber of everything was so high.  It was a little dry, probably due to the reheating process, which is always rough on salmon.  There were hints of dill and light sauce.

The next thing that came across my plate was a Tilapia Fillet.  And Holy Crap I still can’t forget how delicious this was.  I don’t know what sauce this was cooked in, but it was fantastic.  It fell apart as you touched it, teasing you with how juicy it was.  I’m salivating just thinking of it and must get this recipe to try.

The one thing that was missing this year was the traditional seafood salad.  I personally didn’t miss this, as the octopus legs are something I generally steer clear of.  But several family members were sad it didn’t make an appearance.

Oh boy were there mussels making the rotation as well.  I’m sad to report that I can’t remember what kind of sauce they were swimming in.  By that point I had eaten so much and this was a few weeks ago, so memory is failing.  I will say that they melted in your mouth though.  I had been craving mussels for a while and these hit the spot.

Next on the docket were fish cakes.   Yum!  I’ve always been a fan of anything fish that made it into cake form.  From what I remember, these were a touch firmer than they needed to be, but still super delicious.  After all, when you’re cooking for 22 people, you’re going to have to reheat things that were made in advance so not everything is going to be completely perfect.  That being said, I still wolfed down my fish cake rather happily.  My brother actually had the genius idea of throwing the remains from my father’s clam sauce on top.  That guy is somethin’ else!

I know there was a salad (I know, who would dare allow room for salad with all this gloriousness sharing the same table) and probably a few other things I’m not remembering.  Forgive me!  I think I did pretty well with this list.

DESSERT

Every year there is always an array of fruit and cookies.  There’s chocolates being passed around, coffee is being made, and usually some sort of decadent nonsensical cake that has too much fruit packed in odd places.  The most important things are my sister’s rainbow cookies and my grandmother’s cheese cake.  Both are highly envied and of course, only made for Christmas.

The only picture I chose to seek out because you must find these gems if you've never had one!

If you’ve never had a rainbow cookie, God have mercy on your soul.  You are missing out on one of the better creations on this earth.  They can be found at any Italian bakery, and up until a few years ago, it was the only place we knew how to get them.  When my sister decided she was going to master these cookies, we all took a sigh of relief, knowing they would always show up each Christmas.  They are the layered marzipan cookies featured above.  Hence the name, rainbow cookies, and they are absolutely delightful.  You can learn more about them on my sister’s blog.  They are never leftover as my family always greedily enjoys as many as they can.

My grandmother’s cheesecake is the other marvel.  It’s better than any cheesecake I’ve ever had and I always make room for at least a small piece.  My sister also recreated this once in her hometown and claimed that everyone she served it to begged her to make it again.  Like I said earlier, Grandma doesn’t fool around.

This was how we ended the night, with the exception of my Mother and I sneaking small pieces of dried sausage that was specifically bought for the next morning.  This is the part of Christmas I look forward to the most, well, that’s also shared with the Beef Wellington my father makes each Christmas day.  But it’s all about the eating that brings my family together.  And I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Christmas Through Food- Pt I: Petits Fours

I’m well aware that I’m super late on a post like this.  To be honest, I had done so much cooking and baking at the end of December I was completely overwhelmed by the idea of blogging about it.  My plan was to save it all up and blog during the week and a half I was going to be in Jersey visiting the fam with nothing to do.  What ended up happening was that I realized I enjoy doing nothing.  So instead I cooked, ate, and decided to lay around instead of doing anything productive.  The result, is now my backtracking.

So I’m going to go all the way back to mid December, the beginning of my holiday cooking.

PETITS FOURS

This was the goal. Look at how perfect they are!

 

I’m not sure if I’ve already touched on this in the past.  If so, pipe down and lap up my good humored thoughts on the subject until I get to the new stuff.

I first encountered Petit Fours over a year ago at my old job.  They had accidentally come to our office in LA instead of the Denver branch.  We all greedily saw the perishable label on the package and called Denver to tell them whatever it was would probably be spoiled by forwarding along.  With success, we ripped open the package to find a tray of beautifully decorated bite- sized cakes.  I immediately fell in love.  While I’m more of a savory girl myself, when I do crave sweets I prefer cakes and tarts as opposed to plain old chocolate (I know, disgraceful).  As a chubby kid, I was the one buying the box of Zebra Cakes while all my friends were stocking up on candy.  So needless to say, these treats were just my style.

Around Thanksgiving was when I was starting to dream up what holiday treat I’d be baking this year.  Every year for the past 4 at least, I’d baked some sort of Christmas delicacy to shove down anyone’s throat who was around and bring home with me.  My sister takes care of the classics (and this year brought round delicious new cookies I’d never even think of).  She’s got the real skill for baking, making each cookie beautiful.  I’d like to think of myself more as an artist.  My treats don’t always look elegant, I’d say rather homemade, but I strive to make sure the flavors are on point.  So this year, I had my heart set on Petit Fours.

I had decided, as I do with most recipes, that I wanted to make everything from scratch and I wanted the real deal.  None of this shortcut bs.  I did extensive research on the genoise I’d have to make up to the fondant to top it all off.  I started thinking about the flavors I wanted to use.  It was all coming together.

I decided to do 2 rounds, so I could perfect whatever went wrong the first time around.  The flavors?  Chocolate cake, Raspberry jam, Amaretto Custard, and plain old fondant.

Wet and wild and ready for action.

I researched genoise.  This is a french sponge cake that’s supposed to be light and fluffy.  I decided to make a chocolate version.  This was my first time ever making sponge cake.  This was exciting for me because in order to properly execute this cake, you need to boil a pot of water and then place a bowl on top of that to mix your ingredients in.  We’re talking a double decker here.  It’s very precise, as you’ve got eggs cooking in there and don’t want them to actually cook.  The goal is to heat all the ingredients until it’s warm to your finger.  Then you remove the bowl from the heat and whip the crap out of them until you have a fluffy combination that’s tripled in size.  My issue, was that I needed to fold in the cocoa powder to this fluff.  Every time I thought I was good to go, I’d see a secret pocket burst and powder flow out.  This batter was laughing in my face.  So naturally, my first round came out dense and fudgy due to over-mixing.  I wrapped her up and stuck her in the fridge.  I had planned out the steps perfectly so as not to be overwhelmed with all the baking and construction in one night.

On day 2 I created the Amaretto simple syrup to brush over the cake.  Yum!  I also made an Amaretto custard for the middle layer.  There’s no secret to this recipe, as I discovered.  You make a regular custard and just add a few tablespoons of Amaretto to it.  Bam.

I also decided to construct and cut.  This is part one of my downfall.  I took out the sheet of cake and tried trimming the top off.  I think it was a personal issue at this point.  It was as if I was killing the spirit of my cake by cutting so much off.  The end result was very tall Petit Fours as I didn’t have the guts to cut them down small enough.

I cut my long piece of cake into two, for stacking purposes.  On the first layer a healthy amount of simply syrup, followed by jam, followed by the custard that was still room temperature.  Another mistake.  I learned that night that the custard should be cold and completely set.  I ended up with a bit of a mess on my hands, but was able to get it all together.

I'm still trying to stay uniform at this point.

Custard Rebellion.

Now the real pain in the tush.  The cutting.  I dropped the top layer of cake down and took a deep breath.  It was time for this baby to feel the wrath of my knife.  (I would like to note here, that in all the various recipes I read, they all made this part look so easy.  Just use a serrated knife, Bingo, perfect tiny squares.)  I started out making vertical cuts.  Ok, not so bad.  When I started taking each log one by one and cutting those down into squares is where things started to look bad.  The warm custard would ooze out, and I really saw how lopsided these little squares were.  I started giving some of them haircuts to even things out a bit.  It got to a point where I realized these just weren’t going to be the perfect morsels I dreamed up.  It was time to just make something that tasted awesome and looked a lot like something a five year- old would proudly serve to Mom.  Game on.

My daughter will be 5 in May. She did a great job on these.

After all my squares were cut and all different sizes, as I had thrown caution to the wind in any attempt to make them all look the same.  I took each one delicately and smoothed the edges, smearing custard and jam across the sides like glue.  I realized that I would be covering these with fondant, so maybe all wasn’t lost.  And as I’d been tasting as I was going (I am the ULTIMATE grazer when I make anything, which I guess is a good thing for a cook.), I knew they would at least taste good.  I threw them all in the fridge to await the next night.

This is the point where I would like to have a mini flip out session due to my own ignorance/ internet trickery.  As I previously stated, a lot of these elements were knew to me.  I was excited to try my hand at making something like fondant.  I learned there are at least two different kinds.  One, is the kind you see featured on all those cake shows.  You have to roll it out and you can cover or mold just about anything.  It’s kind of a cheat really because it’s maleable.  But, there is also a liquid version.  That’s what I was going for.  I read through some recipes that had a cheat for it, but like I said, I was going for a genuine recipe.  I liked the challenge.  Unfortunately, what I deemed ‘genuine’ turned out to be a freakin’ glaze.  I know, I know.  How could I not realize this?  When a recipe calls for 6 cups of powdered sugar, one should rethink what’s going on.  I just didn’t know any better.

Very obviously a glaze.

So I cooked up this glaze.  Yes, I was very proud of myself.  “Fondant.  Pshh,” I said to myself.  I didn’t understand what everyone made a big deal about.  This beast was supposed to be fickle and annoying, but I had a playful puppy on my hands.  Again, none of this tipped me off.  So I heated, and spooned the glaze over my treats.  This in itself was not an easy task.  I developed a two fork routine.  I’d spear the top, lean it over the pot while I spooned enough glaze to cover all sides, and then take a second fork to pry the little cake off the speared end to gently place it down on a tray.  Many of these attempts ended with expletives as the cake would roll onto it’s side, ruining the glaze.

Some of them came out slightly pretty. They wouldn't have been the last ones asked to dance in High School.

After finishing I looked at my work: A tray of all differently sized cakes that looked nothing like what I had wanted to create.  I popped one in my mouth.  I actually really enjoyed it, but it was not at all what I was trying to recreate.  So I sighed, ate another one and wrapped them up.

I brought some to work, and mailed out to packages of them.  The following week I rolled up my sleeves and got back to work.

This time my cake came out perfect.  It was light and fluffy.  I trimmed it respectively, glazed it and threw it in the fridge.  That same night I made the custard, so it would have a night to stay cool.  The next day I constructed my cakes.  With the cake being much fluffier, the cutting was a little easier.  I also decided to use my grandmother’s method of cutting cheesecake: dip your knife in a glass of water after each cut.  Booyah.  I was back on track.  The squares weren’t all even, but they were a lot closer.  I was also very picky about getting rid of the end slices and so on.  I became a Petit Four Nazi– only the perfect ones survived.  (Too much?)

This time around I said a big ef you to the glaze recipe and was still feeling too burnt from it to attempt another fondant.  I decided I was on a new path to making the most delicious treat I could think of.  The answer was Chocolate Amaretto Buttercream Frosting.  Heyoo!  I decided if I was making little tiny cakes, they were going to be exactly that.  None of this frenchy vagueness.  Pure American cake style.

I whipped this mother up and she was the perfect addition!  I decided to wait on icing these babies until I returned home to Jersey, so I packed everything up for my trip.

With my remains, I created little parfaits for myself and my roommates!  Yeah, I’m a dork, but wouldn’t you like a parfait?

So all in all, I attempted to master this decadent dessert and I don’t think I did that.  Instead, in my true fashion, I created some sort of Americanized hybrid that tasted pretty good.  By the time I got home for Christmas, I was so over the sweat and tears that I didn’t even bother to ice them.  I just served them with the icing on the side.  And of course I didn’t take any pictures of the second go around to boot.

This time, you won France but watch your back!  I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve.

Stay tuned for more savory Christmas dishes!

Breakfast- The Baked Eggs Edition

Like every other person in their mid- twenties, I have several blogs I hit up each day as a sort of morning routine.  The first one I go to after checking my email is http://www.foodpress.com.  I’m a big fan and get a lot of recipe ideas from all the different posts.  So naturally, when I read about baked eggs last week I immediately became obsessed.

This is a concept I had never wrapped my head around.  It never even occurred to me to bake eggs.  And with that, I didn’t give a single thought to why I may have steered clear in the past.

There were two recipes I was dying to try.  Both of which were features on foodpress’s website.  So yesterday morning, I woke up happily hungover and trudged into the kitchen to get to work.  This was a full on breakfast featuring baked eggs.  The base was sauteed leeks and spinach with garlic and some spices.  Spinach being my absolute favorite thing to pair with eggs besides cheese, I was in.  You throw that in an oven safe bowl and crack two eggs on top.  I was just really excited by the idea of making a cute little bowl of food to put in the oven.  In the past, I would have absolutely made the same dish, but replacing baked eggs with poached.

It looks so appetizing right now!

Mmm... Eggs lounging on a pile of spinach and leeks.

The recipe claimed to bake these suckers for about 6 minutes, but I think my oven is a little on the retarded side.  Every recipe I use, I usually need to triple the amount of oven time.  So, every five minutes my timer went off I excitedly opened the oven to peer in and see raw eggs laughing at my growling stomach.  I eventually got to my end result and when I pulled out my masterpiece, I was a little disappointed.  There was this tough film over the top of the eggs.  When I touched it, it didn’t budge.  My skepticism began.  I kept muttering to myself things about poached eggs, clearly the superior, as I poked at my breakfast.  “Poached eggs would break open with the spear of my fork.  But these baked eggs just sit there all hard and gross looking.”  I began comparing them to microwaved eggs, that so many bagel shops around here use for their breakfast sandwiches.  (I know, it’s disgusting.)  And I realized it’s more or less the same concept.  The consistency was very unappealing and with a roaring hangover, found my stomach already on the brink of queazy and couldn’t even finish.

Ruh Roh... look at that bubble. Gross. That is a full on indestructible film.

Let's take a closer look. Even worse.

This put me into such an emotional anguish that I pushed my breakfast aside, crawled to my couch and covered myself in blankets in front of the TV.  I had been talking to anyone who would listen about these baked eggs and how excited I was.  And I was angry with myself for not realizing that this was something I probably wouldn’t like.  So much built up, just to fall short of my expectations.

As the day progressed, I eventually got my lazy behind off the couch and started to plan my food for the week.  This is my Sunday, always.  Looking through recipes, making long lists.  The goal is to not have to go to the grocery store at all during the week.  Big shopping one day.  I started compiling all the dishes I would be making during the work week and the list began.  I needed a breakfast treat though.  I have been relying on frozen waffles for a few weeks, which work really well, but wanted a change.  Cue second baked eggs recipe!

Another foodpress goodie that looked adorable and delicious: Scrambled Egg Muffins.  This is a little embarrassing, but it’s my blog so I’m going to admit it.  I didn’t even realize this was another baked eggs recipe.  Yes, I had read the recipe days earlier.  But all I saw were ingredients and once my brain gets moving there’s no backtracking.  There was also that hangover fog that doesn’t make everything crystal right away.

So hours later, I’m chopping, whisking, preheating the oven.  This recipe used cheese, so I immediately knew I would enjoy it regardless.  It’s a very simple one.

You whisk together 6 eggs (1 egg per muffin).

Add 6 teaspoons of parmesan cheese.

Add 1 tablespoon of parsley

1/3 c of milk

salt and pepper.

The original recipe had you sprinkle bacon on top, but I stepped this up a notch.  I bought some morning star breakfast sausage.  Stop judging!  I know this is a meatless meat, which is odd for me because eating animals is one of my favorite things in life.   The truth is I LOVE this stuff.  I think it’s awesome and seeing that I would be eating these muffins all week, why not choose a healthier option.  It’s a hell of a lot tastier than turkey bacon.  So I chopped up four sausage patties and added them straight into the egg mixture.  Err… I added 3 because I ate one while all the chopping was going on.

Next you line a cupcake tray with 6 cups and pour your scramble in.  Throw that beast into the oven (preheated at 400 degrees) and let it cook for 15 minutes.  For those of us with inbred ovens, 25- 30 minutes.

You would think that I would have realized I was putting my eggs in danger of being once again disgusting when I preheated my oven.  Wrong.  To be fair, I was working on three different recipes at once and was in that go- go phase of just doing without thinking.  So I took my broiled chicken out, switched the oven to bake and just continued on.  It was as I was pouring the egg mixture into the cupcake tray that I stopped for a moment and made a sad face, finally making the connection that I may hate these little muffins I’d been so excited about.   I’d come too far to turn back, so I popped them in the oven and said a Hail Mary.

Success!

A party of egg muffins!

To my surprise, they looked good coming out.  The tops were a little hard, but I felt good about it because of the milk and cheese.  This morning I brought one to work and popped it in the microwave, ready to face facts.  I found the muffin rather delightful.  The sausage definitely helped, but despite the tops being a little hard, underneath was a spongy breakfast surprise.  This absolutely put me back into a love affair with baked eggs.  Well, maybe not a love affair, but this good impression was enough for me not to hate on them forever.  And these muffins were so simple, with so many variations that I will absolutely make them again.

Blizzards: Bringing families together and a new appreciation for Scotch

That's my Dad! And he's gigantic.

I’m bad at blogging when I’m not on a schedule.  When I get time off of work I become full of a sweet radiant bliss that doesn’t allow me to do any of my normal activities.  So now I’m behind on about 5 posts about decadent meals/ desserts I’ve created.  Watch out for those in the near future.  Hint– awesome seafood chowder to come!

I shipped out to NJ for my holiday break to spend some time with the fam.  My sad little LA body was worried about the cold winds it would have to endure.  I kept telling myself to ‘Buck Up!”  I used to live in Boston for Christ’s sake!  None of that mattered anymore though.  After 3 years of living in LA, I have been stripped of any tough exterior that can walk through temperatures below 40 degrees (and that’s being generous).

So I arrived and didn’t think it was all that bad.  I bundled up and went from car to establishment and back again, never spending too long outside.  I donned a hideous large puffy coat that I adore because it isn’t fashionable by any means and it almost hits my knees.  I only wear this thing when I’m home for the holidays.  It’s perfect for those weather conditions and is a friendly reminder that I don’t live in subzero weather anymore.

Christmas came and as always, that night ended with a gigantic high school reunion (spanning from decades) at the local bar.  This has become a tradition since all my friends have been 21, as a good friend’s birthday is on Christmas.  I actually walked home from the bar that night!  I braced myself, and even mentioned to my brother that I was going to have to get pretty loaded if we were going to walk home.  And we were, because our ride left.  After beer, shots, and merriment, we set off.  It wasn’t too terrible.  I was happy to get home, but wasn’t completely miserable.  I was getting the hang of this winter weather.  I was CRUSHING it!  And then…

BAM!  Blizzard mofo!

I’m not exaggerating here.  I often do that– like to dress up what I’m talking about to make it more exciting.  I actually mean a blizzard.  Look it up.  Union County, NJ gets 2.5 feet of snow– in one shot.  It snowed all day, relentlessly taunting me.  After the first foot I realized I wasn’t going anywhere, which was ok.  It was the day after Christmas and I could care less about going anywhere.  We had a ton of delicious leftovers and booze.  We were good to go.

I remembered past blizzards that have snowed me in.  There’s always some sort of bonding.

As a kid, you waited until daytime so you could somehow make your way over to a friend’s house to build snowmen and go sledding.  And sometimes even build igloos.  For real.  And then it was all about warm hot chocolate inside as you peeled wet clothes off your body. (It’s true.  In Jersey we ski in our jeans.  But I did wear snow pants as a kid.)

As I got older, it was more about who you were lucky enough to be snowed in with.  In college, my freshman year, we had a huge blizzard in Boston, resulting in a dorm-wide party.  Mostly I remember staying in with my roommate and having and epic evening with Captain Morgan (gross).   A few years later, a first date that gave us a long time to get to know each other.

In other words, as much as I may hate large quantities of snow, they always manage to bring people together.  So this one would be no different.  I was lucky enough to be with my whole family, which is a rarity to begin with.  We laid around and watched football and movies.  We were all old enough to not be bratty or annoyed by each other.  It was just peaceful.  We took turns dancing around in the flurries (I only lasted a few moments) and enjoyed the barricade the snow created.

And when the little ones and the older ones went up to bed.  My brother and I silently agreed it was time to class it up with some Scotch.

I talk about Scotch a lot.  I’m obviously a big fan, but for some reason the cold weather just aches for it.  There is nothing that seems more appropriate to me during a snowstorm, than a glass of smooth Scotch.  This is something I didn’t have an appreciation for as a college student, when I experienced my last big storm.  Luckily, my father had a good one.  I don’t remember the name, but I do remember I wasn’t supposed to drink it.  I did anyway (mostly because he doesn’t drink Scotch).  And it was perfect.

We both met in the basement with our various night caps.  It’s too good not to share the little midnight snacks we created.  I had my delicious glass of Scotch with a scrap of bread.  Boring!  But anything would have been in comparison to the combinations my brother magically throws together.  He chose to drink Makers on the rocks.  He paired that with a small bowl of Italian olives, a chunk of Ricotta Salata, a few slices of Provolone, and a wedge of Jarlsberg Swiss Cheese.  Awesome!  He shared of course, because I can’t just watch someone eat cheese.  And we discovered the swiss was an excellent compliment to the whiskeys.

And then we watched The Town.  But that doesn’t really fit into my theme here.  So I’ll just say that I liked it, but I’m biased because I spent a lot of time in Boston.  And I love Don Draper.

So as much as I will complain about being stuck in a blizzard, which ruined a lot my plans and gave me an annoying cold, it ended up being a nice way to have some close family time that I haven’t had in a long time.